


Swimming Through Sick Lullabies

by Irresponsible_Bear



Series: Sick Lullabies [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ABDL, Anal Sex, Angst, Come Marking, Dark fic, Fingering, Forced Orgasms, Infantilism, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scent Marking, forced bondage, non-con infantilism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:45:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irresponsible_Bear/pseuds/Irresponsible_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In a world where werewolves live in secret and have humans provided for their every wish, Stiles is taken to become Derek's baby boy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swimming Through Sick Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GentlyWithAChainsaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentlyWithAChainsaw/gifts).



> Caution: this is _extremely_ dark, and includes graphic non-con. Please be careful if you're triggered by that. (If you don't want to read that part, skip to the first ***)
> 
> So this is for @GentlyWithAChainsaw , because your works are amazing, and I adore them. I figured I'd try my hand and wrote you a one-shot from your universe, which I hope is okay. (So many characters, so little time. How do you do it??) Surprise! Happy Summer :)

Stiles wakes up squirming. There's something inside of him, and he instinctively tries to pull away from it, But he doesn't get far before a firm hand pins him down.

"Da?" he mumbles, eyes groggily opening. He goes to rub his eyes, but his arms are strapped down. That makes him blink rapidly. He hadn't been tied down in months, he was _good_. The pressure in his ass is still there, and he realizes he must be getting his temperature read. He still doesn't like it, and Daddy usually straps him down so he doesn't hurt himself. "'M not sick, Daddy."

But Daddy doesn't say anything, just tightens his hand on Stiles' sternum. The glow in the dark stars on the cieling distracts him for a moment until something else gets pushed inside and Stiles whimpers. 

"It hurts," he complains. "No, stop, Daddy, it hurts!"

"Shh," an unfamiliar voice says and Stiles freezes, craning his head to look at the person that is not his daddy. It's too dark to see their face, or anything other than a dark figure hovering over his crib. His heart starts to pound, and he opens his mouth to yell for his Daddy, but something's quickly slid into his mouth before he can. 

It's his pacifier, and the figure leans closer to do the strap around his head. His eyes widen when he recognizes the face - that's Theo. He lives a few blocks away. He always seems nice, always smiling and waving from across the street and once he even gave Stiles his second favorite teddy bear, and a lollipop, but there's something about his smile that's scary. 

He begins to kick his legs in protest, but Theo just calmly holds them down. He starts making distressed noises behind his pacy, and Theo sighs. "Stiles, calm down. It's okay. Your dad let me in. I'm here because he asked me to be."

Stiles isn't convinced. His Daddy always tells him when he has to go to the doctor. Wouldn't he have told him about Theo coming over and putting his fingers... there?

Theo just squeezes a little foil packet onto his fingers, and begins to put the cold digits back in Stiles. He whimpers, trying to scoot away and not getting far, ropes yanking at his wrists. 

"Your daddy is working, sweetheart. He's very busy, on an important call, and won't be happy if you interrupt him. I think he'd have to spank you."

Stiles pauses unsurely, then mumbles urgently behind the pacifier. Theo chuckles at him, and pulls it out of his mouth long enough for him to talk. 

"B-But he always holds my hand when we go to the doctor." 

"Well he's busy right now. Do you honestly think he'll abandon some poor, helpless young werewolf because you want your hand held?"

Stiles' face crumples as thick fingers twist inside him. This feels _wrong_. "But -"

"Stiles, shut up," Theo snaps impatiently. When Stiles sniffs, Theo's face softens. "Relax, or you're just going to hurt youself. If you're good, you'll get a special treat when we're done."

Stiles frowns, suckling his pacifier rapidly. He feels embarassed that he can't help a moan when the fingers brush deep inside him. Maybe this isn't so bad. He knows isn't supposed to have nice touches by himself or with any other werewolf, but Theo just rubs the nice spot inside of him until Stiles completely relaxes, legs bent at the knees and spread wide, so maybe this is just a check-up. Stiles wonders if he's gonna have to have a really big thermometer this time. 

Theo's thumb traces his bottom lip, thumb slipping inside next to his pacifier for a moment. Stiles stills. "Mm, such a pretty mouth. I wish I had the time to use it tonight," Theo sighs longingly. "I guess it'll have to be tomorrow."

He suddenly feels vulnerable, completely naked with his knees spread, but pretty much every werewolf in the community has seen him or some other baby without their clothes on at some point, right? 

Faintly, in the back of his head, the mean voice is telling him that this is wrong, that he should stop Theo, but the bigger voice says if Daddy's okay with it, he has to trust him, because Daddy never hurts him. 

Besides, Daddy's probably listening to his heartbeat to make sure he's okay. And nobody can sneak into the house when an alpha werewolf lives here. Stiles is safe here. 

And that's what he tells himself when Theo slides his pants down, dick as hard as Stiles'. The slide isn't pleasant. The first few inches are uncomfortable and kinda painful, like someone's putting a waterbottle up his ass. Stiles grunts around the pacifier when Theo slides all the way in with a little groan. 

That's definitely not a thermometer. He squirms at the uncomfortable feeling. He wants it _out_. Stiles whimpers unsurely. He hadn't done this since he was big, and took people home from sketchy bars. The thought is upsetting - he doesn't like to think about his sad life before Daddy rescued him. Stiles' breath hitches as Theo barely even pauses before he's thrusting in and out at a rapid pace, fucking him like he's a limp ragdoll. 

It burns a little bit, and Stiles whines and whimpers behind the gag, begging him to stop, but Theo either doesn't seem to care...Or maybe he likes it, because he cooes and grips Stiles' hips with bruising strength. 

Stiles gasps when claws come out, flinching away until they dig into his hips, and he has to stay still because moving drags them into his soft, fragile skin. 

He doesn't like this. He wants Daddy. This isn't right, this isn't a checkup. 

Tears start pouring down his face, and he hiccups and openly cries. Theo _grins_ , like this is all so pleasing to him, and then his eyes flash a dull yellow at him, and then the movements stop, something warm gushing into him. 

Theo smiles at Stiles, bearing his teeth and pulling out to come on Stiles' crotch, covering his dick and belly with sticky, white mess. 

Theo hums, stroking the side of Stiles' face. "You were as enjoyable as I thought you'd be. I said you'd get a special treat if you were good, didn't I? Don't say I never gave you anything."

Then his cock is grabbed, monstrous claws wrapping around him, and starts pumping up and down until he hardens again and moans, despite knowing it's bad and Daddy will be mad 'cause he's not supposed to do this without him, ever, and makes a mess all over himself. 

Theo wipes his messy hand on Stiles' bare skin carelessly. 

"Good boy. Now stay still, or risk getting paralyzed," he says, casually, and then jabs his claws in the back of Stiles' neck. 

Fresh tears leak out of his eyes, right before his world goes dark. 

 

***

 

He wakes when the door opens, sleepily blinking at the cieling when Dad- Derek comes in, smiley as usual, at this ungodly hour. 

"Goodmorning, Baby! Are you excited to go to the park -" Derek freezes abruptly, all of two steps into the room. His nose twitches, and then his eyes go wide and red. He crosses the room faster than Stiles thought possible. Once he sees Stiles, he snarls and his features slide into a beta shift. Stiles' eyes widen, and he yelps when Derek punches a hole through the door. 

Derek snarls and roars, sounding absolutely feral as he destroys the door as if it had insulted his dead family. He punches and rips parts of the wood off until he just clean rips it off the hinges. 

Stiles about has a heart attack, watching in terror as the alpha loses it. He's never seen Derek so destructive, so angry. If he ever has outbursts, they're not in front of Stiles. He has a moment of gut glenching panic when Derek redirects his attention to Stiles, eyes still bright red, like blood, and beta shifted. Stiles shrinks, like he'll turn invisble if he tries hard enough. 'Wolf features aren't new to Stiles; he's seen almost the entire pack shifted, but never like this. Never with rage and bloodlust and whatever else Derek's possibly feeling.

He flinches when Derek aproaches, claws out, and slices through the restraints on his arms like they're paper and not reinforced restraints. He whines anxiously when he moves to pick Stiles up, but is saved when someone comes running through the door. Derek spins, growling readily, like he's itching for a fight and the first person he comes across will do. 

"Whoa," Peter says, looking winded and disheveled in a way Stiles has never seen. He sniffs the air and his eyes go wide, shock written along his features, before a myraid of other emotions that's too fast for Stiles to decode. It's a far cry from Peter's usual collected, prim self. Peter's face falls impressively neutral in seconds. "Derek. Calm down. I could feel you freaking out the pack bond."

Derek just snarls, but Peter seems to understand him anyways. 

"I know. I know, but look at yourself. Look at _Stiles_. He's petrified of you."

Derek pauses glancing over his shoulder at Stiles, who shrinks back again instictively. Derek's shoulders hunch a little, breathing heavily. 

Peter eyes him. "You need to control yourself. Throwing a fit -" he pointedly glances to the splintered wood everywhere, "is not going to help anyone, especially not Stiles. Now, I'm going to clean him up, and you're going to call the police."

There's a tense moment where it's unclear whether or not Derek will let Peter close enough to the crib, but he only growls lowly and grumbles to himself when Peter carefully picks up Stiles, who immediately tucks his face into Peter's neck. 

"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" Peter asks softly. Stiles doesn't answer, just clings on; Peter will find out soon enough. "Okay. Let's go clean you up."

Peter undoes the mangled straps from Stiles' wrists with careful human fingers, carefully takes wet wipes and clears the sticky, white, _bad_ substances from Stiles' torso and genitals. He goes through almost a quarter of a roll of wipes. Who knew werewolves produced this much semen, Stiles thinks a little hysterically. When he gets to Stiles' bottom, Stiles whimpers. Peter tenses, knuckles going white around the wet wipe, but otherwise calm. He puts a hand carefully on Stiles' hip, and then his veins turn black, and the pain goes away. 

Peter starts a bath and Stiles feels grateful, still feeling sticky and the scent of the wetwipes nauseating him.

 

The bath is quiet, whereas Stiles usually loves playing with his mermaids, the bath markers, making bubble beards and squeaking his rubber duck loudly to annoy Derek's sensitive ears. 

Peter's shoulders are tense, jaw clenched and a faraway look in his eyes.

"Uncle Peter?" he asks quietly. "Are you mad at me?"

Peter just looks so angry it's scary, so Stiles is glad when the expression immediately washes away, giving into something much softer. 

"No, no, baby. Not at you, never at you. What happened wasn't your fault."

"But Daddy was mad at me. Am I bad?" 

"Of course not. Where would you get such silly ideas?"

"The bad man put the straps on me. Daddy only puts the straps on me when I'm bad. Why did he hurt me? I'm _good_. Daddy said I'm good. He _said._ "

Peter's eyes shine their bright, alluring blue for a split second, before Peter shuts his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they're back to normal. 

"You are good, Pup. Sometimes people do mean things because they're mean, and it has nothing to do with you. Come on, kid, let's get you dried off," he says quietly. He uses the softest towel, dresses him in his favorite onesie, but Stiles still feels scared. What if he comes back? What if the bad man comes and tries to hurt Stiles, or Daddy?

When he sees the broken door he buries his head in Peter's neck again. Peter stiffly carries him downstairs, where he's surprised to see the entire pack, all different stages of dressed. Erica's in her pajamas, hair unbrushed and messy. Kira is dressed in work clothes, looking put together but shaken. Scott is about the same, and Isaac is wearing only boxers, looking like a caged animal. Boyd's fists are clenching and unclenching, his eyes have gold flecks in them like he's trying really hard not to shift. 

Dadd- _Derek_ looks the worst, his shirt has rips in it from his claws, hair pointing every which way, wild eyed and seeming ready to sink his claws into something. 

Everyone stares at him and he feels uncomfortable. His cheeks heat, and he ducks back down and hides his face. 

He wonders if embarassment has a scent, because Peter soothes a hand down his back. "Stiles, you don't have to be shy. They're here to help, they care about you."

He knows they won't judge him, but suddenly there's twelve eyes on him, and he's the definition of overwhelmed. He's the loser that just got taken advantage of upstairs, after all. And all it had taken was a couple carefully placed "your Daddy"'s and a gentle hand and Stiles practically let it happen. Jesus, how stupid could he be? Peter instructs Scott to make a bottle, but Stiles doesn't feel hungry. He feels hurt, tired and shaken and doesn't know how to express any of it. 

He wriggles, towards the person who can understand the most, grunting and making grabby hands. Isaac's eyes widen, and he looks behind himself, as if there would be someone else Stiles would be reaching for instead. Stiles whines impatiently, feeling the need to get eyes off of himself and hold onto somebody who he trusts. Isaac and him have never really been all that close, but he makes funny jokes, has a sarcastic sense of humor (even though everyone else generally ignored it), and never tried to force any affection on him, which is more than he can say for the others, no matter how much he loves them now. Isaac immediately scoops him up, but his hold is awkward, as if he's forgotten how to cuddle. 

It doesn't take a genuis to infer what Isaac's past has been like. Even as little as he is, Stiles can tell Isaac's been through a rough past. Stiles feels not so alone when he thinks about it. Maybe if Isaac was a human or Stiles was a werewolf, they would've bonded over their childhoods and bad foster system expierences. 

"Y'r not wearing any pants," he informs Isaac in a whisper, after a long moment of silence. 

Isaac snorts, "I'm pretty sure my neighbors thought I was insane, running down the street without clothes at six o'clock in the morning."

Stiles doesn't laugh, doesn't even crack a smile, but his shoulders loosen a little. 

***

 

Stiles is no idiot. He knows the adults, and Deputy Parrish, are talking in the kitchen, in hushed voices that sometimes escalate before quieting down again. Scott is playing with him, (which Stiles knows is really just trying to distract him), but his attention is focused on the conversation going on in the kitchen, so Stiles beats him at tic tac toe three times in a row. 

Eventually Stiles gives up, and just stares out the window. 

"Hey buddy," Scott aproaches cautiously after a minute. "I know you don't wanna talk about it, but the police need a little bit of help. Do you think you can talk about what happened last night? What you remember about the bad man?"

Stiles fiddles with the red lego piece in his hand, his heart pounding. He takes a shaky breath. "He had yellow eyes 'n' big scary claws. They were sharp and _scary_ 'n' he said." Stiles hesitates, and Scott just looks as him encouragingly, sticks out his hand so Stiles can hold it if he wants. He doesn't want to, doesn't wanna be touched right now, but he holds it so Scott won't think Stiles is afraid of him. "He said I had to be still or it would hurt. And he put his claws on me and it hurt and I didn't like it. He said that Daddy said it was okay.

"And when I wanted Daddy he said he was busy and that his work was more important than I was, and that was why he always leaves me. He said that I'd get a special treat if I was good.

"And Daddy said I had to be good for werewolves other than the pack, too, so I tried to stay still when he told me to, but it _hurt_."

Scott squeezes his hand. "It's okay, Buddy. It's gonna be okay. Do you remember what he looked like?"

"No. It was dark. 'Cept for my glow in the dark stickers. There's stars and the moon and _Jupiter_. They're so pretty, Scott. When it hurt, I just imagined myself on the moon, and you and daddy and Erica and Kira and Boyd and Isaac and Peter were there too," Stiles smiles a little. "Werewolves in space! Has there ever been a werewolf astro- astron- astronaut?" Scott forces a smile, and talks about his conspiracy theory about werewolf astronauts.

**

Stiles pretends he doesn't hear the loud argument over who gets to kill Theo.

***

It's almost afternoon when the doctor comes. He feels scared, even though he _knows_ Deaton, and Erica volunteers to come in to the room for the examination without Stiles having to ask, so he won't feel scared, which means the entire pack ends up hovering in the doorway and around the changing table. He expects to feel embarassed, which he does a little bit, but he mostly feels safe. Erica lets Stiles squeeze her hand while Deaton undoes his diaper, carefully checks Stiles' bottom. He whines and thrashes when Deaton puts a gloved finger inside of him, tears threatening to leak out. He knows Deaton isn't the mean man, wouldn't hurt him like that, but all he can think about is how much he didn't fight, how much he could've tried harder to resist, and he didn't. Erica calms him down by singing the batman theme song in a ridiculous batman impression. It's horrible, but it stops his thrashing. When the doctor says there's no tearing, the room lets out a collective breath of relief. Deaton gives Derek some cream to make it feel better, because it's sore. And then they discover the claw marks on the back of Stiles' neck. 

Scott looks pale, eyes darting around the pack. "He could've taken anything. Any memory Stiles has of us is - he could have all the information about our pack that he needs to take us down. All our weaknesses."

The mean man can see all of Stiles' thoughts? Nevermind a whole lot of embarassing thoughts and memories, but see all of Daddy's and the pack's vulnerability? They had weaknesses, and they could be exploited all because of Stiles. Because he didn't fight hard enough, because he let himself be hurt. 

His face grows hot, eyes stinging with tears while the pack mumurs about what to do. 

"Shh, Stiles, it's okay," Erica pets his head when she notices. 

Stiles struggles free from her grip, not wanting to be touched anymore. "No! No, The - the bad man is gonna hurt everyone and it's all my f-fault," he wails. 

It'll be his fault if Derek's family gets destroyed again, if they all burn. 

Derek gently picks him up and whisks him away, and Stiles kicks and screams. "No! Don't take me back! I don't - I don't wanna go to my room," he cries, barely able to breathe. He doesn't wanna have to see the crib, the smashed door, the dirty sheets- 

Derek shushes him, "I know. I know. We're going to Daddy's. Don't worry, Stiles, you won't have to go back to that room again."

Stiles' cries hush, and Derek sits in the rocking chair, Stiles on his lap. It feels better than Stiles would care to admit. He thought maybe Daddy was mad at him because he wouldn't pick him up, wouldn't feed him earlier, instead had his betas do it. He's not proud of the way he sinks into Derek's arms, feeling more relaxed than he has all day. "Baby, it's not your fault. None of it. The man who hurt you lied. About everything. I'm so sorry I didn't know he was there, sweetheart. You know you're more important than anything in Daddy's life, right?" He waits until Stiles hesitantly nods, "I love you so much, Stiles. I promise no one will ever hurt you again." He rocks him back and forth until he falls asleep. 

After that, they don't talk about it in front of him. 

*

He wakes up from his nap screaming. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" he shrieks, only stops when Derek comes in, wild eyed and frantic. When there's no apparent danger, his eyes fade to green again. 

"Hi, Baby," he begins, looking out of place in his own bedroom. 

"Out! Want out!"

Derek hesitates, before gently picking him up. "Do you need a change?"

Stiles nods. 

"Should I get Peter? Or Kira?"

Stiles frowns. "No. You."

Derek relaxes, like he was worried about not having the absolutely _priviledge_ of changing a diaper. He can be so strange sometimes. Who knows what goes on inside that surly alpha brain. 

Derek changes him with lighter, quicker touches than usual, and Stiles is grateful. When Derek offers him apple sauce, he refuses. They compromise on a bottle, that's kinda grainy and gross. When he goes to put Stiles back down in the basinette, and Stiles clings. 

"No, no, no, no, no!" 

"I thought you wanted to nap, Baby?"

"No! Not in there."

Derek is quiet for a minute. "Okay. Okay, you can sleep in Daddy's bed."

Derek tucks him in, even though it's not cold, but the blankets protect him from monsters. He says as much, but the way Derek's face falls makes him think he maybe should've kept it to himself. He gets to the door before Stiles sleepily says, "Wait. Stay, please."

Derek hesitates, "you want me to sit in the chair until you fall asleep?"

"No. With me, here," he pats the bed encouragingly, like Peter does with his dog when he wants him to get up on the couch. 

Derek looks... relieved. His shoulder falls from their tense hold, brow no longer furrowed or aggressively frowning. "Okay." 

X

 

Derek leaves Stiles under Isaac and Scott's protection. It isn't likely anyone will try anything, last night was merely a message for Derek. A message. Derek was (naturally) enraged to find out his baby boy was used for something that could've been written on a post it and still had the same meaning. 

But now - this was something else. This wasn't just a challenge, it was war. Raeken was relatively new; didn't have any babies, and likely had no idea how beloved they were by the community. It wasn't just his pack out for Raeken's blood. Anyone with a baby wanted to see that bastard dead. 

But, even if they kill Raeken, he knows he'll never forgive himself for not stopping it, for not waking up when his baby was being molested. Raeken was thorough, disabling the baby monitors (all three of them, and Derek had no idea how he knew about the small one attached to the baby mobile) but that was no excuse. He had super hearing, and he still couldn't - 

He still couldn't protect his baby. 

He'd watched earlier, tortured, as almost everyone in the pack got to hold and console Stiles except for him, when all he wanted to do was comfort his own child.

He was so worried that Stiles would hate him, would blame him for what happened, or be afraid after his grand freakout this morning, when he smelt Stiles' fear, tears, and pain, and Theo Raeken's arousal, come, and anger and couldn't stop his instinctive shift. Wolfing out in front of a baby that was just traumatized by another werewolf was not his proudest moment. His relief was palpable when Stiles held no grudge, and felt safe enough to let Derek sleep in his bed. Trusted him to be right next to him during his most vulnerable. Derek felt guilty for betraying that trust by drugging the bottle, but it was only a mild sedative, only enough to keep him calm so he wouldn't freak out and have another panic attack, or throw tantrums. Those reactions would be perfectly normal and expected after what happened this morning, but Stiles needed rest, not stress. (Especially when a trauma like that could either push him over the edge into regression or remove him completely. Dealing with this was definitely not in the Society's parenting book.) 

*

Theo's in the forest, near the nemeton, where Derek knew he'd be. Fighting in civilization is too risky, too much possible collateral and someone likely to call the police instead of letting werewolves fight it out like nature intended. 

He has his whole pack behind him, but they won't get involved. Not when it's Derek's fight over his alpha status, when it became personal after Raeken raped his baby boy. Peter had argued with him, for some reason feeling entitled to killing Raeken himself (he'd grown more attached to Stiles than any other beta, Derek thought smugly) but Derek wasn't about to back down. He was going to have Raeken impaled on his claws tonight. It would be him who killed the son of a bitch. 

Logically, he knew, even though others traditionally weren't supposed to get in the Alpha's fight, someone (Peter) would kill Raeken before he got the chance to do so to Derek. They wouldn't let someone as awful as a child molestor become an alpha, much less Stiles'. 

"You came," Raeken smirks. "Got my message, I see?"

Derek snarls, beta shifting. 

"Yeah, I thought so. Did he tell you about it? How he tried to fight? It was so pathetic it was almost cute. I'll admit you have him trained nicely, because as soon as I mentioned your name, he stopped fighting and just laid there, took it like a fucking whore."

"Are you going to fight me or just talk me to death?" Derek roars, shaking with poorly hidden rage. 

Theo grins. "I knew he'd be a sore spot for you."

"Do you pride yourself on raping children?" Derek snarls. 

Theo rolls his eyes. "He's gotta be at least, what, twenty? Twenty five? Well above the consenting age, Derek. I didn't do anything wrong, technically. You know, keeping him like that is waste of your energy. When I'm Alpha, he won't be treated like a fucking infant. At least, not after last night. Maybe I'll just keep him locked to the bed, fuck him whenever I want. He could be _useful_ for a change. "

Derek growls. "You won't ever get the chance, because I'm going to kill you."

"Oh yeah?" Theo laughs, like someone killing him is just inconcievable. "I'd like to see you try. And when you fail, I'll take all your betas, your land, everything."

Derek flicks his claws out, and Theo just smirks, as they begin to circle each other. 

Theo lunges first, and Derek easily blocks his punch, clawing Theo's stomach. Theo grunts, stumbling back, and Derek punches him in the face, just to see him spit blood. Theo lands a kick to the sternum, winding him. He ends up punching tree bark when Derek ducks his head, and takes the opportunity to tackle Theo by the middle and throw him against an adjacent tree with a sickening _crack_. Theo goes straight through a branch. His eyes widen for a second, processing, but then he grins bloodily, snapping off the branch in front of him, dropping to the ground and dusting himself off like he's not covered in blood. 

He gains the upper hand after a tackle and roll, and uses his upperhand to plunge the branch through Derek's rib cage, with a surprising amount of force for a beta. When his eyes glow yellow, though, instead of gold, Derek's eyes narrow. 

"What are you?" he grits, chest heaving as he yanks out the branch and tosses it aside. But he's an alpha, and his healing is twice as fast as Theo's, so he's back on his feet in seconds. 

"Werewolf, like you."

"No, you're not. Your eyes, they're wrong."

It's almost comical, the way his face darkens, like Derek's seriously misstepped by commenting on an insecurity. He grins maliciously, "so you're an off-brand werewolf. A fake. Is that why you wanted to challenge me?" He gets a good clawing into Theo's side, splitting open skin that starts to gush blood. "Because you thought being an alpha would cure you of your inferiority?"

Theo growls, eyes shining their despicable yellow. Derek doesn't know what Theo did to become this werewolf-wannabe mutant, but he can bet it's not good. 

"Is that it? You never found an alpha to give you the Bite properly, never were good enough to any _real_ werewolf. So you did something. Sold your soul, maybe, to look like a cheaply made halloween costume."

"I'm a chimera, and we do things you can only dream of," he hisses, wiping blood from his mouth. 

Derek doubts it. "A Chimera. Is that some sort of cosplay?"

So he might've asked for that one, getting thrown across the clearing into a tree. He grunts and rights himself, tackling Theo to the ground and going for the throat, but the slippery bastard rolls away before it can land, ending in Derek's claws imbeded in a chunk of dirt. 

"'You're so hell bent on killing me, but you can't steal my power. Only a real werewolf can do that. Whatever mutant you've turned yourself into - it won't work. Were-coyotes can't take power from werewolves, and werewolves can't take power from were-jauguars. If you weren't a two cent version of us, you'd have known that."

Theo lunges again, but Derek just catches his wrist and pulls him in. Theo claws at his chest, and Derek roars in pain, slamming him to the ground and shoving his claws in Theo's stomach, until he's knuckle deep. 

"There's a special place in hell for people like you, which is exactly where you'll be going," Derek says lowly. 

Theo laughs, blood staining all his teeth a dark pink. "But you'll have to live with knowing I was smarter than you. That I was able to drug your food, and leave you incapacitated while ruining your precious baby. Oh, don't give me that look. You couldn't have thought I was able to sneak into your house without you knowing and coax all those sweet, loud sounds from Stiles without you waking up. You might think you're winning now, but I was right under your nose the entire time.

"Did you even notice the teddy bear with the nanny cam? Did you know I watched your boy every day, for months? I had so much time to think about how I'd hurt you the most. I could've killed him, sure, but that would be over quick, and you'd just find a new toy. But this? He'll never be able to forget this. And no matter what you do, you can't change what I did. Take his memories, drug him twenty four hours a day, but _you'll_ still know the truth.Tell me, Derek, does he still smell like me?

"And that was my end game. You might have won the battle, but I won the war. And you'll never be able to take this from me," he grins, speech slurring. Derek roars, clawing his face open until it's a blood, nasty gash and there's no recognizable human face underneath. 

It takes Boyd, Kira and Erica to drag him away, while Peter smiles gleefully as he gets to finish the job.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm [Irresponsible-Bear](http://irresponsible-bear.tumblr.com/ask/prompts) on tumblr, and prompts are open :)


End file.
